The last few weeks I’ve generally dropped from cyberspace. The days leading to the first anniversary of my mother’s death brought quietness and introspection, tons of emotion billowing over and surprising me. Since last fall I’d avoided the memorial website my daughter Tracey had set up. When she asked about continuing it, I spent several hours there, and cried.

With no recollection of what I had said, I watched my extemporaneous talk at the reception after Mom’s requiem. Right now so many are walking through the shadow of death themselves, or with others, I’d like to offer my little glimpse of peace that day as a gift of light.

It’s an amateur video, (and yes, cruel French teacher, I do swallow my vowels) but I hope you can make out the words and it blesses you.

My season of mourning and memories transitioned into several weeks of urgent intercession for a dear family pierced and torn up with the murder and untimely death (to us on earth) of a toddler. Personal pain from my little brother’s death, many years ago, intensified my desire to hold this family up.

To pray against the darkness.

Sometimes the pressure to intercede woke me, and kept me awake for hours at night. During the day I often felt drawn to pray amidst regular activities. At times it was so weighty I felt physical pain, and a complete energy drain.

One of my precious grandsons came for a week of Grammi Camp. His joy and the opportunity to love on him helped to balance me.

Pure, holy gift.

How can I mourn when he’s flying like a falcon?)

or spinning a web?

or looking for alligators?

or learning to body surf with Lily?

 

By the time I was called to help our son and his family move, the pressure to intercede constantly had lifted somewhat.

I cared for my precious granddaughters for eight days, with the little one sick from the second night on. If you have endured an earache, or a child with one, you know the the agony for all involved.

We had moments of tranquility.

Mostly, she was only relieved by being held. Struggling to eat zucchini spirals with only a fork reminded me of all the one-handed meals I ate while holding her father.

It also reminded me of the fact that faith and prayer do not guarantee happiness, healing, or even safety here on earth.

I circle back round to the truth.

The only guarantee on this side of the veil is that His grace is enough, heaven reaching down to us.

And we will be held.

Have you endured a season of deep pain, or been called to pray for another’s agony?

                                            (Photos from my cell phone.)